


Take the leap

by kira892



Series: Boyfriends AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Established Relationship, M/M, past hunk/lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 13:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12433941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kira892/pseuds/kira892
Summary: Allura is about to say something but is cut off again, this time by the sound of the door chimes. All three of them turn to look and proceed to stare as the most interesting thing they've seen all afternoon strolls through their front door.Lotor ambles up to the desk, casual as anything, like it's just a regular day and he isn't wearing a cropped black hoodie that has the Barbie logo emblazoned on the chest in big, pastel pink letters. His long hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and Lance is pretty sure the dark splotches all down one leg of his jeans aren’t there for decoration. He's the only one that notices them. Allura and Pidge are both focused on the hoodie, staring at it as if if they did it long enough, it would stop showing off Lotor’s bare stomach and what's printed on it would change into something less ridiculous. And what the hell itshouldbe ridiculous but Lotor is wearing the damn thing with the same confident grace he did everything else and honestly, he's kind of rocking it. Lance isn't sure if he's impressed or offended.





	Take the leap

Lance is going for the world record for longest paperclip chain. A noble goal, and one that is actually not entirely impossible, given that he currently  has all the time in the world, nothing remotely interesting to do and a dedicated assistant who, prior to abandoning her station to come help him, was also going out of her mind with boredom. So far, the chain is about the length of the front desk, not counting the pieces they’ve broken off to wear as necklaces and bracelets, the three loops Lance weaved into a paper clip crown to place on Pidge’s head and the neat little spiral Pidge set up around the pad of sticky notes by his keyboard. She had made it out of the mini pack of multi-colored clips Lance unearthed from the bottom of his drawer, after sorting and linking up the clips in rainbow order.

 

Yeah, it's been a really slow afternoon.

 

The studio is mostly empty,  almost all of the artists gone for the day, having inked the last of their customers a few hours ago. No new calls have come in after lunch and  with the phone silent, all there’s left for Lance to do are either boring things that don’t need immediate attention or boring things he could and would pawn off on someone else as soon as he gets the chance. 

 

He's about to open up a brand new tub of paper clips when Allura walks by, tablet in hand and phone sandwiched securely between ear and shoulder. She's talking to a new client about the design she's working on and pauses when she catches sight of Pidge. Having lost room at her side of the desk, she's now looping part of the paper clip chain around her wrist.

 

“Hang on, can I call you back? Okay great.” Allura hangs up and raises an eyebrow at them, propping one hand on her hip.

 

“What are you two doing? Lance, I thought you were going to restock the jewelry display and Pidge, weren't you working on a new piece?”

 

“Did that.” Lance replies, peeling back the plastic seal around the fresh tub of paper clips. He also rearranged the chairs in the waiting area and reorganized his desk five times.

 

“I was. And now I'm not.” Pidge says, breaking off a few paperclips and threading them carefully through the spacer in Lance’s ear. The piece in question is crumpled up in a soggy ball on top of the garbage can. Lance had watched her dunk it in her cup of coffee out of frustration after wasting half a notepad on failed drafts.

 

The patented furrow of Unamused Disapproval ™ appears on Allura's glorious eyebrows then. She frowns and looks between the two of them, down at the impressive result of their boredom, then back at them.

 

“Okaaay, well since you're not doing anything, can you load the dishwasher? The sink is full of mugs again. And the-”

  
  


“Allura shh, we're going for a world record here.” Pidge interrupts her.

 

Allura is about to say something but is cut off again, this time by the sound of the door chimes. All three of them turn to look and proceed to stare as the most interesting thing they've seen all afternoon strolls through their front door.

 

Lotor ambles up to the desk, casual as anything, like it's just a regular day and he isn't wearing a cropped black hoodie that has the Barbie logo emblazoned on the chest in big, pastel pink letters. His long hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and Lance is pretty sure the dark splotches all down one leg of his jeans aren’t there for decoration. He's the only one that notices them. Allura and Pidge are both focused on the hoodie, staring at it as if if they did it long enough, it would stop showing off Lotor’s bare stomach and what's printed on it would change into something less ridiculous. And what the hell it  _ should _ be ridiculous but Lotor is wearing the damn thing with the same confident grace he did everything else and honestly, he's kind of rocking it. Lance isn't sure if he's impressed or offended.

 

“Allura, Holt.” he nods at each of them politely, blue gaze cool as he stares them down, daring either of them to say anything. 

 

Pidge snaps out of it first. With one last, slow blink, she tears her eyes away from the hoodie and gives him a friendly little salute. “Hey.”

 

“Lotor.” Allura says slowly, eyebrows climbing up to her hairline when she finally notices the splotches on his leg and recognizes them for what they are; damp spots. “Can we help you with something?”

 

“Or did you just walk over to see your,” Pidge leans her elbows on the desk “ _ boy--friend _ ?” She asks, adopting a truly horrid british accent and pitching her voice as low as it could go in an attempt to copy Lotor. Beside her, said boyfriend makes a face. Grateful as he is that at least some of his friends have stopped being weird around Lotor now that they’re dating, he isn’t sure if he prefers Pidge acting like a 12 year old whenever he and Lance are in the same room together. 

 

“Spot on impersonation.” Lotor tells her before turning his attention to Lance. “And yes, I did actually.”

 

Pidge “Oooh”-s while Allura nods once, not looking away from Lotor as she unlocks her phone.

 

“Well try not to distract him too much, he ought to do at least something productive before his shift is over. If you’ll excuse me,” She turns to go, lifting her phone back to her ear. Lance doesn’t miss the curious look she throws his way or the small smile lingering at the corners of her mouth. 

 

She’d known Lotor the longest and surprisingly had the least to say months ago, when he told everyone. She was the one to take him aside, asking for a word but had stood in silence throughout him trying and failing to not turn his polite refusal of her concern into a rant about how everyone has already told him he’s making a big mistake and he should turn this train around before it speeds headlong into a spectacular wreck. He probably would’ve gone on talking if he hadn’t noticed she still hadn’t said anything. Once he trailed off into silence, Allura said

 

“I agree with everyone else that you two should be careful. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you made an error in judgement.”

 

Lance had stood there, stunned for about half a minute before finally uttering a hesitant “Oh...okay, thanks.” He walked away immediately after and didn’t bring it up for the longest time, afraid that if he did Allura would take it back. She never did. Eventually curiosity got the better of him and when asked, Allura hesitated for a moment before shrugging.

 

“At the risk of sounding like those awful paperback novels Coran thinks no one knows he reads,” and she paused again, looking like she was desperately grasping for different words to use. “...He tries to tone it down when other people are around but…He looks different when he looks at you. His eyes change.”

 

Lotor walks over to take the spot Allura previously stood in, bracing an elbow on the glass topped counter framing the front desk. His face is still carefully composed to make up for all the attention his outfit is drawing, expression almost bored but that cold blue gaze thaws ever so slightly when he looks at Lance, a change so subtle no one else would’ve picked up on it.  _ His eyes change _ . 

 

Lance’s lips twitch upward into something a little too soft to be the amused smirk he wanted to go for. He can see Pidge watching him out of the corner of his eye and she looks like she’s seconds away from making kissy faces at him. He kicks her lightly under the desk.

 

“Nice hoodie.” He says, nodding at it.

 

“You left it in my car and it was the only thing I had. Ezor came up with a new flair move. It involves bouncing a full shaker on the ceiling.”

 

Lance winces. “How bad did that go?”

 

“Oh she nailed it. She thought it appropriate to shower everyone in champagne to celebrate.” 

 

Lance nods his understanding, mouth opening in a silent “Ah.” He wonders if someone caught it on video and if he’ll see it on the Sincline’s official instagram later. 

 

“Hey Lance, where did-?”

 

All three of them look over to see Hunk walk out of the back room, empty bottle of rubbing alcohol in hand. He freezes when he sees them or more accurately he freezes when he sees Lotor. He clears his throat. 

 

“Where did you put the alcohol? I know we got a few bottles shipped in yesterday.” He continues as if Lotor isn’t there. 

 

“Good afternoon Hunk.” Lotor greets him before Lance could say anything, in that deceptively pleasant tone he uses when he’s really being anything but. 

 

“Oh hey.” Hunk replies curtly, barely sparing Lotor a glance before turning his attention  back to Lance.

 

Pidge cuts through the budding awkwardness with a whistle, low and airy. “The heater was turned up too high and it really needed to drop a few degrees in here, good job you two.” 

 

“Shiro took it, said he was going to refill all the bottles at the piercing stations.” Lance pipes up before anyone could make this even worse. 

 

“Kay, cool. Thanks, bye.” Smooth as anything and totally not rude at all, Hunk turns and stalks out of the room. Lance watches him go, suppressing a sigh. 

 

“Anyway,” he says looking back up at Lotor. “What’s up?”

 

“Something came up and I won’t be home until late. Would you mind watching Zira for a few hours? Everyone else is busy.”

 

Lance grins. “And she likes me best anyway. I’d be happy to.”

 

Lotor just quirks a pierced eyebrow at him, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a key with a purple fluff ball and a bejeweled L attached to it. He dangles it over the desk. “You’ll need this. You also left it in my car.”

 

Lance takes it with a small sheepish wince. “I was wondering where that went.” 

 

“I moved her food to the top shelf, the one above the stove. There’s a problem with the heater so the thermostat will probably still be useless. I’ve left some blankets out but there’s more in the hallway closet if either of you need more and feel free to consume all of the Jones soda in the fridge. Ezor brought a pack of them last week and they’re disgusting.”

 

“What flavor?”

 

“The blue ones.”

 

“Will do.” Lance salutes. “Anything else?”

 

Lotor reaches over the counter and sets a small white pastry box Lance hadn’t realized he’d been holding, on the desk. It’s warm and as soon as it’s set in front of him, Lance gets a whiff of a mouth watering smell he immediately recognizes. 

 

“Yes. Thank you for the garlic knot recipe. We put it on the menu last week and people seem to like them very much. Sal made you a few, you earned it.” 

 

He’s spoken to Sal a grand total of maybe three times in all the years since he started working for Lotor at the bar and he’s pretty sure it’s not the grumpy old cook’s idea to send him a fresh little batch of garlic knots.

 

He smiles. “Oh. Tell him thanks.”

 

Lotor nods. “Thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”

 

“Wait, one more thing.” Lance reaches out and grabs a handful of his sleeve as he starts to leave. Lotor stops and Lance hesitates, suddenly hyper aware of Pidge still sitting beside him, watching them intently. 

 

Lotor waits, curious. He looks like a completely different person; swathed in borrowed clothes, simple and completely unguarded without the proud tilt of his chin or the cool, detached gaze he reserved for other people and god, he’s in Lance’s hoodie and he hand delivered him fresh garlic knots. 

 

Fuck it, he’s too fucking cute. 

 

Lotor obediently bends down when he tugs and Lance meets him halfway, catching his mouth in a chaste kiss, close-mouthed and sweet. 

 

He’s not quite smiling when Lance pulls away but still, there’s something dangerously close to it lurking in the corners of his lips. 

 

Neither of them say anything as Lotor walks out, back into the pleasant October afternoon and as soon as the glass doors click shut behind him, Pidge, who’s been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes, hisses like she’s just witnessed something painful. 

 

“I’m surprised you two haven’t moved in together already. Who’s Zira? Does he have an illegitimate daughter he hasn’t told anyone about? Does she call you dad?”

 

“Down girl. Zira’s his cat, chill out.”  Lance tells her, prying open the box of garlic knots. He swats at Pidge’s hand when she tries to reach for one and she stabs him with a paperclip in retaliation, snatching one triumphantly as Lance jerks back, glaring at her indignantly.

 

“Okay but real talk, it’s been what? A year?” Pidge asks as she bites into her garlic knot.

 

“Half.” It’ll be seven months in two weeks and three days. He thinks. He’s not counting. 

 

“He’s wearing your clothes, you have a key to his place,”  she hooks a finger into the metal keyring and holds it up “You even labelled it so you wouldn’t lose it.” she flicks the L and it makes a clacking noise as it swings back and forth. Lance saw it when he was out shopping and bought it on a whim after remembering that both of their names start with L. He decidedly doesn’t mention this to Pidge. 

 

“One, he was only wearing it because he had no choice and two, can I just point out that I lost the key anyway?” 

 

“True but you made the effort. You don’t even do that for your own keys. And from how you resacted when he asked you to catsit, it looks like you’ve already adopted his cat as your own.”

 

Lance shrugs, taking a garlic knot out of the box and biting into it.

 

“Seriously man, when are you going to bring him home to your mom?” 

 

He answers without thinking. “At some point after I tell her about him probably.”

 

That makes Pidge pause. She even stops chewing and when Lance turns to look, she’s staring at him, expression caught between surprised and confused. 

 

“I was kidding but what? You haven’t even told her? You barely waited a week before you told her you were dating what’s her face.” She waves her garlic knot around, trying to remember “Uhh. Girl with the weird last name, Planxton…?”

 

“Plaxum. And that was in 8th grade, I was excited.” 

 

“You sent her Nyma’s instagram and facebook page after you asked her out. You weren’t even dating then!”

 

“What? No I didn’t.” He knew he was going to regret asking Pidge to find those. 

 

“I mean sure, he and his family don’t really have a stellar reputation and he can be a raging bastard if he doesn’t like you but, Lotor’s rich and handsome. Every mom likes that right?”

 

“Yeah. Everything you just said but emphasis on the first part.” Lance pulls out the short chain of paper clips dangling from his spacer and winds it around his finger “Also...She’s kind of not over my last break up.”

 

Pidge understands immediately. Her mouth opens in a silent o before she purses her lips. “Okay, gotcha.” 

 

“And, you know, the whole family thing-” Lance gestures vaguely with a small wince.

 

“Mmm, unless she hasn’t read any news articles in the last decade, name-dropping his dad could make things super awkward really quick.” Pidge points out.

 

“She knows exactly who he is.” Daibazaal was a common name tossed around at the dinner table at home, whenever his aunts, uncles or grandparents came over to talk politics and current news over dinner, along with a whole slew of colorful spanish curses that they all thought he couldn’t understand. 

 

Pidge nods, giving him a small sympathetic wince of her own. Lotor’s dad isn’t exactly a low profile kind of guy and by extension, neither was his family. The man is ambitious, power hungry and twice as ruthless as the garden variety politician, a combination that had the media vultures constantly circling around him, waiting for a controversial quote that would get people angry enough to read or listen. Whenever he managed to dodge them, they turned their overly critical gaze to his troubled son and all the things he got up to. The stories about Lotor were never quite as big but still, all that information is out there and it’ll likely just take one google search for his mom to be yelling at him through the phone. Not anything new but it’s one thing to defend your choice in romantic partners to your friends and quite another to defend them to your mother.

 

He tells Pidge all this and she pats him on the shoulder. “That’s rough buddy.”

 

“She’ll hate him for entirely different reasons than you guys, I need time to come up with different counter arguments.”

 

“Hey, I never hated him.” 

 

“You told him he was born for politics because he has great hair and he loves lying.”

 

“He laughed at that to be fair. Well, he smirked but coming from him that’s practically a laugh. I’m impressed he understood that reference. Anyway, I don’t think any of us ever really hated him”

 

Lance gives her a skeptical look. “Really? You want to ask Hunk what he has to say about that? Believe me he has plenty.”

 

Pidge shrugs. “Other than him obviously. I think he had the same reaction we all did, just multiplied by ten because he’s your-” She hesitates before she says “-bestfriend.” Lance ignores it. “I mean, Lotor is….well, he’s Lotor. He’s been public frenemy number one for most of the time we’ve known him. He barely switched over to friend status and then suddenly he’s your boyfriend. I think everyone just overreacted.” 

 

Lance raises his brows in agreement, popping the last of his garlic knot into his mouth. 

 

“Besides,” Pidge says, grinning as she pokes him in the cheek. “If you two keep being as gross as you were a few minutes ago, even Hunk will come around eventually.” 

 

“Alright, I have a dishwasher to load and you have a piece to work on.” Lance says through a mouthful of bread, pushing his chair back abruptly and almost taking the paperclip chain with him. 

 

Pidge just stares at him over the rim of her giant non-prescription glasses, smirking. She watches him not so subtly run away, eyes trailing him all the way out of the room like a smug owl. 

 

“I’m taking the whole box!” she calls out to him as soon as he was out of sight.

 

Lance almost slips as he runs back around the corner and snatches the box out of her hands.

 

=============================

 

Lotor’s apartment building is the kind of high end that most people only see on TV, the type of place that always makes Lance feel a tad too shabby the second he steps through the automatic doors. The lobby is thankfully empty when he walks in but still, Lance hurries under the glittering chandelier, past the large marble fountain and the plush velvet couches, tugging his sweater down to his wrists to cover up his sleeve tattoos. 

 

Two middle aged women are in the elevator when he gets in, prim office types with immaculate hair, decked out in flashy jewelry Lance has no doubt are made out of real gold and silver. They stop talking when they see him but they do give him polite, if slightly awkward smiles when he greets them hello. They go back to talking but Lance is pretty sure they’re still sneaking glances at him as the elevator shoots up. He stares at the shiny gold panel the whole time, trying his hardest not to fidget. Thankfully, they get off before he does and the elevator doesn’t stop on any other floors but Lance doesn’t feel himself relax until he’s standing in front of Lotor’s door and turning the key in the lock. 

 

A small quiet meow greets him when he walks in. Zira is by a pair of Lotor’s boots; a small, dark little thing, all eyes and wrinkles. As far as sphynx cats go, she’s on the scarier looking side but she hardly looks like it now, perched over the vent in a tiny gray sweater, waiting in vain for a blast of warmth to ward off the chill of the apartment.

 

“Hey kitty,”  Lance greets as he crouches down. Zira trots towards his outstretched hand immediately and Lance smiles as she pushes her head against his palm, demanding scratches. He obliges, cooing as he gently rakes his nails across the deep wrinkles on her head, of which there are plenty. They run all the way down her face and around her eyes, giving her a permanent dour glare, the kind that makes her worthy of the scheming disney lioness she was named after. Not that Lotor would ever admit that. 

 

“How you doing pretty sphynx-y?” 

 

In answer, Zira leaps, diving headfirst into the loose neckline of Lance’s sweater and nearly sending them both toppling back against the door. Lance yelps and manages to grab her before she slips completely down his front. She meows, a loud whiny sound that lets Lance know how unhappy she is about not being stuffed in his shirt. 

 

“Alright, alright, I get it, someone’s a bit cold.” Lance says, wrapping her up in his arms as he stands up. Zira meows at him again, louder and more insistent. For a cat that looks as mean as she does, she’s such a demanding, needy little baby. 

 

“Just like your owner.” Lance sighs, kissing her head as he walks further into the apartment. 

 

Zira nuzzles the underside of his chin, giving him a few affectionate licks. Lance grins, tilting his head down and making kissy noises at her. She licks at his lips and he laughs, scratching at her ears. 

 

“Lovely, but I still think he’s the better kisser. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

 

He spends most of the evening on Netflix, cuddling Zira on the couch. The apartment stays just chilly enough to be slightly uncomfortable and true to Lotor’s word, fiddling with the thermostat does nothing. Lance eventually lets Zira crawl into his shirt, making sure both of them are warm and cozy under a thick comforter. If this is what she’s had to deal with all day, no wonder she tried to use him as a space heater as soon as she saw him. 

 

She stays there, dozing on and off, a smooth ball of warmth against his skin. Eventually she crawls out to demand food, running back and forth between her empty bowl and the kitchen, meowing incessantly as she walks circles around Lance’s ankles, waiting impatiently for him to get the food down from the shelf.

 

He pours her a generous serving and as soon as he’s fulfilled his purpose, Zira appears to completely forget about him, preoccupied with gorging herself. Lance keeps an eye on her for a bit to make sure she doesn’t eat too fast and puke all over the pristine floor and after assuring himself that she seems to be doing fine, he takes out one of the bottles of soda from the fridge and goes snooping around the kitchen as he sips it. There’s more takeout menus than any actual food but since all of them are for restaurants in the neighborhood and Lance still needs to eat for the rest of the week, he just scrounges up what he can; eggs, some onions and a half empty bag of shredded hash browns. Okay, he can work with that. 

 

He pauses before putting a pan on the stove, taking out his phone to send Lotor a text. He waits for about ten minutes, and then takes out more ingredients to make enough food for two anyway when Lotor doesn’t respond.

 

Zira loses interest in her dinner when she hears the sizzling of the pan and climbs up his back to perch on his shoulder, watching as Lance shakes some salt onto the frying hashbrowns. She meows. 

 

“No, this is my food.” He says, gently nudging her when she starts to lean down, towards the pan. “Did you even finish yours?” 

 

A quick glance over lets him know that she didn’t but the bowl is mostly empty so he lets her off the hook, letting her stay on his shoulder and observe as he cooks. He chops up the onions, beats some eggs into a bowl and checks his phone as he waits for the hashbrowns to cook. Still no response from Lotor but there’s some snaps from Pidge of the piece she finally started working on, a subsequent text asking him if she should add color and an email from his mom. 

 

It’s nothing new, she sends him one every couple of weeks, telling him about any news from back home if there are any and asking him what he’s been up to. Lance begins typing up a response automatically, giving her a play by play of his week; the new curtains he bought, the girl who got him teary eyed when she booked an appointment to get a tattoo of her deceased cat’s paw print, the afternoon of  paperclip chain making,

 

His thumbs pause over the keyboard, hovering over they keys as he thinks of Pidge and what she said to him a few hours ago.  

 

_ Oh and by the way my new boyfriend I haven’t told you about, he asked me to catsit. He has a really sweet sphynx cat and she’s reading over my shoulder right now, judging me as i type this… _

 

He types. Lance stares at the words, sighing.

 

He may have exaggerated when he told Pidge about how his mother would react to finding out who he was dating. She won’t exactly be jumping for joy and demanding to meet him in person as soon as possible sure but his Mama is the kindest, most big-hearted person he knows. She’s fiercely protective of everyone she cares about but she always tries to keep an open mind about people. She might be wary of Lotor but Lance actually doubts she’ll judge him for where he came from and the person he was when the tabloids wrote about him. 

 

It’s just that... well, the last person he’d told her he was dating was Hunk and that was a while ago.The break-up had been mutual and Lance feels they’d both come to terms with it easier than his mom did. They grew up together. Hunk is practically another son to her and though she hadn’t told him flat out, Lance is sure she was hoping the two of them were solid and that eventually Hunk would be part of the family in name as well. 

 

It’s kind of really anyone’s guess how she’ll take to Lotor and it’s the not knowing that scares him. 

 

With another sigh, Lance erases the last part and sends her his reply. Then he puts his phone back in his pocket and goes back to cooking. 

 

He eats in the kitchen because Lotor’s dining table makes him nervous; a small slab of glass balanced precariously on a weird, artfully mangled piece of steel. Like most things in the apartment, it looks like it’s built to be way more decorative than functional and Lance hardly trusts it to stay in place when he sits at it by himself, much less when he has a cat on his shoulder who has her eyes set on his food. 

 

He’s still there when Lotor comes home. He finds Lance leaning against the counter holding his plate, attention divided between carefully shoveling food into his mouth and warding Zira away from it. She’s still on his shoulder, rubbing her cheek affectionately against his, trying to charm him into giving her some after realizing whining and trying to make a grab for his fork is getting her nowhere. She doesn’t even look up when the front door opens, ignoring Lotor until he’s standing right in front of them.   

 

It’s just past ten and understandably, he looks tired but he still manages a smile when Zira finally notices him and makes the leap from Lance’s shoulders to his, meowing affectionately as she ducks into her favorite spot, under the thick, warm curtain of his hair. He’s switched Lance’s hoodie for a crisp button down that looks brand new but the jeans he’s wearing looks identical to the ones he’d been wearing when he stopped by the studio, sans champagne splotches. 

 

“Where’s my hoodie?”  Lance asks, nodding at the shirt.

 

“In my car.” Lotor replies, looking at Zira as he scratches behind her ear. Before Lance could ask if he was going to get it back, Lotor’s gaze moves to the plate in his hand. 

 

“What are you eating?”

 

“Spanish omelette. Sort of. You only had hash browns but you know, potato-patata.” He grins, proud of his own wit. 

 

Lotor’s expression doesn’t change, only offering a flat. “Hmm.” in response. 

 

“I made one for you too. I don’t know if you saw my text-”

 

Lance says, twisting around to grab the other plate, which he had left on the counter. When he turns back with it in hand, Lotor looks surprised. He takes the plate when Lance hands it to him, looking down at the puffy omelette like it’s the first time he’s ever seen one. 

 

“Oh. Thank you.” 

 

Something inside Lance aches. It’s sweet and a little sad, the way Lotor sometimes gets blindsided by little gestures, like it’s never occurred to him that people just sometimes do nice things for no reason. 

 

They both jump when Zira, having noticed that there’s a brand new plate of food nearby, unguarded by Lance, leaps down from Lotor’s shoulder to his arm. She lunges for the omelette and Lotor fumbles, nearly dropping the plate as he tries simultaneously to get it out of her reach and keep her in his arm. He tuts.

 

“No you little glutton, not for you.”

 

Zira whines, betrayed and both of them look so indignant that Lance can’t help laughing as he takes Zira back. She barely lets herself be lifted away before she’s squirming in Lance’s grip, twisting and kicking until he lets her go. She scuttles away as soon as her feet touch the floor and Lance huffs. 

 

“Little drama queen.” He turns back to Lotor with a small grin. “Takes after her dad.”

 

Lotor scoffs but doesn’t actually deny it and when Lance keeps smiling at him, his lips twitch. He  ducks his head,looking down at the plate in his hands to hide it but still, Lance can see the shape of a smile hiding under a curtain of white hair, small but genuine. Lotor clears his throat. 

 

“Thank you again for this. I’ll definitely eat it, in about an hour or three.” he says.

 

Lance tilts his head, curious. “That’s an oddly specific set time.”

 

With one quick step, Lotor closes the gap between them and Lance barely has time to react before he leans in for a kiss, slow and open-mouthed. Lance isn’t sure where the omelette went but it’s sure not in Lotor’s hands anymore because those are currently preoccupied with sliding down his back and squeezing his ass. Lotor gently sucks on his bottom lip and Lance sighs against his mouth, hands coming up to slide into Lotor’s hair. 

 

He pulls away to trail kisses down the side of Lance’s neck, nipping at the sensitive spot where it meets his shoulder. 

 

“Three hours, really?”  Lance murmurs, tilting his head to the side to give Lotor more room. 

 

“It’s been a long week.”  Lotor’s hands press forward, pulling him in until they’re pressed together and Lance could feel him against his thigh. 

 

“I made you dinner and you just want me for stress relief?” he asks in a mock accusatory voice, slotting a thigh between Lotor’s. 

 

Lotor lifts his head, lips brushing against the shell of Lance’s ear. 

 

“I missed you.” He whispers, low and soft, like a dangerous secret. “Is that what you want to hear?”

 

Lance’s heart gives a hard thump against his ribcage, he’s almost sure Lotor can feel it.

 

“Depends,” he pulls back so he could press their foreheads together. “Did you mean it?” 

 

Lotor kisses him again, messy and urgent. He grinds down against Lance’s thigh, one hand coming down to cup him through his jeans. “Why don’t I show you?”

 

=============================

 

When they emerge from the bedroom about two and a half hours later, ruffled and sticky, Lotor heads straight for the omelette he abandoned on the counter and pops it into the microwave. Lance follows him into the kitchen at a much leisurely pace. His entire body is pleasantly sore, limbs feeling just a little too loose. He’s wrapped himself up in one of Lotor’s ridiculous silk bathrobes but still, he grabs a blanket Lotor left draped over the sofa and wraps it around both of them when he eventually comes to a stop right behind Lotor, hooking his chin over his shoulder, arms encircling his waist. Lotor leans into the contact and they both wait in silence as the microwave finishes heating up his food. 

 

After grabbing a fork, Lotor moves them to the couch, letting Lance lay across his lap and mindlessly flip through channels on the TV while he eats. Lance settles on a documentary about the deep sea which he barely pays any attention to, watching footage of dark waters and bioluminescent cephalopods without hearing what their names are or how their bodies work. Lotor’s hand ends up in his hair, fingers gently playing with the short brown strands. 

 

Lance closes his eyes, settling more comfortably against Lotor’s thigh and basking in the easy familiarity of his touch. 

 

“You can keep the hoodie if you want.” he says, out of nowhere.

 

“Hmm?” Lotor’s fingers move down from his hair to his shoulder. The robe’s slid down far enough that Lotor can see s the jellyfish tattooed there in white ink. He traces it with his finger, following one of it’s frilly arms up, where it curls against Lance’s neck.

 

“You look better in it anyway.” Lance says, picking at a loose thread on the sweatpants Lotor pulled on before they left his room. “You douche.”

 

Lotor chuckles. “Good. I wasn’t planning on giving it back. It’s weirdly comfortable.”

 

Lance shifts so he’s lying on his back, folding his hands on top of his stomach. He waits before speaking, just taking in the sight of Lotor, bare-chested and messy-haired. He looks almost sleepy, relaxed in a way that Lance rarely gets to see, soft. 

 

“I know I just gave it to you but, you know you can buy a whole closet full of way nicer hoodies right?” 

 

Lotor smiles at the question, the kind of smile that lets Lance know he’s onto him. He shrugs.

 

“But this one is yours.” 

 

Lance squints at him. “I can’t tell if you’re really being sweet or if you only said that because you think I didn’t think you would.”

 

The way Lotor’s smile softens could very well be him still just trying to mess with Lance but somehow he doubts it.  

 

“Guess.” Lotor says as he leans down. 

 

His hair falls around both of their faces, blocking out everything and reducing Lance’s world to the press of lips against his, slow and sweet. Lotor stays there for a second before pulling away just as slow, their lips making a soft, smacking noise as they part. He doesn’t go far, hovering close enough their lips are practically still touching. Lance hears the sound of ceramic on glass as Lotor puts his plate down on the coffee table and then there’s a hand in his hair, thumb rubbing back and forth against his scalp. 

 

It still seems so unbelievable even now, this sort of easy affection coming from Lotor. It makes Lance giddy, a strong swell of pride and something else, something warm that settles heavily in his chest when he thinks that he’s one of the very few people who ever get to see him like this.

 

“I don’t know, can you give me one more hint?” Lance murmurs. 

 

“Needy aren’t we?” Lotor asks.

 

“You’re not very smart if you’re only figuring that out now.” 

 

Lance can feel the curve of Lotor’s smile as he leans down to give him what he wants. It’s different this time, Lotor’s mouth hot and hungry against his, each swipe of his lips heavy with intent. His other hand finds the sliver of skin peeking out from between the folds of Lance’s robe, following it down until his fingers encounter the silk ribbon holding the robe closed. It comes loose with one tug. 

 

Something lands on Lance’s stomach. He jerks, startled and when they both turn to look, Zira meows at them. 

 

“Not now Zira.” Lotor nudges her. She leaps onto the coffee table but goes no further, curling up next to Lotor’s plate and getting to work on cleaning up what he hadn’t eaten. They stare at her for a second before turning to look at each other. They both know they’re in for endless yowling if they try to separate Zira from her food now that she’s finally got it. 

 

“So...back to your room then?” Lance asks. 

 

The small interruption put a damper on the mood but not by much. They walk back to Lotor’s room, unhurried, hands clasped together but as soon as the door closes behind them, Lance is pushing Lotor against it and claiming his mouth. They make quick work of their clothes, leaving them discarded by the door as they tumble into bed. They barely separate long enough to do it, neither willing to stop kissing and touching the other and they almost miss the mattress, landing right by the edge and almost falling off. Lotor catches them and swallows up the breathless laughter that bubbles out of Lance’s throat. 

 

The lube is still conveniently by the pillows where they left it and Lotor wastes no time, grabbing it and squeezing some on his fingers. Lance spreads his thighs eagerly, knowing it won’t take long. He’s still feeling a bit loose and slick from earlier. 

 

Lotor straddles his hips and Lance watches, wide-eyed as Lotor braces himself with one hand, back arching, and reaches behind himself. He keeps his gaze locked on Lance as he stretches himself open, lips parted and eyelids heavy. Lance watches him back, transfixed. He wraps a hand around Lotor’s cock, stroking it to full hardness. Precome wells at the tip and Lance swipes at it with his thumb, smearing it around the head. Lotor shivers above him, biting down on a shaky moan. He rises up on his knees abruptly and Lance’s hands fly to his hips, startled  when he feels the touch of slick fingers against his own aching erection, guiding it into Lotor’s hole.

 

Lotor sinks down on him in one controlled move and both of them groan as Lance bottoms out. He’d been impatient with the prep and the slick heat of him is so tight around Lance, it almost worries him but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Lotor braces a hand on his chest and starts to move. 

 

“Careful,” Lance tells him, squeezing his hip, trying to get him to slow down a little. Lotor clenches around him in answer, pulling Lance’s hands away from his hips and pinning them to the pillows on either side of his head. He twines their fingers together and Lance moans as he pulls back almost all the way before slamming back down. 

 

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, loud and filthy, interspersed with heavy breaths and low moans. Lotor starts off quick and goes harder, faster, til he’s practically bouncing on Lance’s cock, riding him until he cries out, spine arching up off the bed. 

 

Lotor pulls off in time but just barely. Lance’s release splatters all over his thighs and the underside of his cock. It slicks the way as he rubs off on Lance’s stomach, following him over the edge after just a few helpless thrusts. He collapses on top of him, breathing hard. 

 

“I think I died a little.” Lance groans.

 

Lotor makes a noise against his neck, an undignified puff of air that sounds part amused laughter and part incredulous scoff. 

 

“Am I supposed to be offended or flattered?” he asks, dragging himself up to give Lance a kiss, warm and languid. Lance sighs into it, hands sliding down Lotor’s back. 

 

“Flattered, definitely.” Lance replies when he pulls away, giving Lotor’s ass a playful little squeeze. 

 

Lotor quirks a brow at him, kissing him one last time before hauling himself out of bed. He doesn’t bother wiping away the mess on his thighs, sauntering to the bathroom naked and disheveled. Lance watches him go, whistling appreciatively. 

 

He lays back against the pillows when the door closes behind Lotor, closing his eyes and basking in the afterglow. He still hasn’t moved when Lotor returns, washcloth in hand. Lance’s eyes fly open when he feels the damp roughness of it against his stomach. He moves to take it but Lotor pushes his hands away, cleaning Lance up as best he can before tossing the washcloth carelessly behind him, letting it land on the hardwood somewhere. 

 

“That can’t be good for your floor.” Lance says, shifting over so neither of them are lying on the wet spot. He folds Lotor into his arm when he slots himself into Lance’s side, cheek resting against his shoulder. 

 

“Perhaps.” He says. “But for now, I’m sure I don’t give a fuck.”

 

A few wayward strands of hair have fallen over his face and without thinking, Lance reaches up and tucks them behind his ear. Lotor turns his face into the touch, eyes closing. It’s such a small thing and he isn’t sure Lotor is even aware of it. He opens his eyes slowly. They regard Lance from inches away, unguarded and soft and it’s ironic, knowing how bad Lotor can get at his worst, that Lance know this side of him is the one that’s far more dangerous. 

 

“Would you mind if I tell my mom about you?” 

 

The words come out of his mouth unbidden. He feels as surprised as Lotor looks but strangely, there’s no urge to take them back or pass them off as a joke. There’s a pause before Lotor answers, a few seconds that feel like they’ll stretch on forever. 

 

“That depends on what you plan on saying to her.”

 

Lance rolls his eyes before fixing him with a look. Lotor’s answer feels like a deflection and for a moment, Lance is actually tempted to take the out but he tamps down the urge, biting back all the sarcastic answers that build up behind his teeth. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can get a word out, Lotor says.

 

“No one I’ve ever dated has ever told their mother about me.”

 

When Lance remains silent, his eyes flit to the side, thoughtful. 

 

“I suppose, if you really want to. I don’t see any reason to stop you. How do-” he trails off abruptly. Lance doesn’t think he’s ever seen him struggle for words. It’s not nearly as amusing as he thought it would be.

 

“Would it cause an argument?” Lotor asks. 

 

“Maybe? Maybe not?” Lance tells him honestly, lifting a hand to run a thumb over one of the two clean, sharp lines shaved into the buzzed side of his head. 

 

Lotor stares at him for the longest time, silent. When he does eventually speak, it’s a false start, lips parting and immediately freezing in place before they could form any words. He takes a  deep breath. 

 

“I guess you’ll just have to decide if I’m worth it.”

 

Something inside Lance breaks open, spilling messy warmth everywhere. His heart is beating so hard, it hurts. He bites his lip.

 

“I guess I do.” 

 

The conversation ends there. Neither of them bring it up again, talking instead about whatever topic pops up until they get too tired to talk. Lotor drifts off first. He falls asleep with his back to Lance’s chest arm tucked over Lance’s, where it rests on his waist. Lance waits, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. Normally they’re enough to lull him to sleep but this time, each breath Lotor pulled kept him awake for a second longer, a timer counting up instead of down. 

 

Finally, he gives in. 

 

His phone is still in the pocket of his jeans. It takes a few minutes of fumbling in the dark before he finds it and when he does, he slips back into bed beside Lotor, sitting up against the headboard as he opens up his mail app. He closes it again after a second and opens up the messaging app to type up a text. She checks those sooner. 

 

Lotor shifts beside him, turning over to his other side to face Lance. He’s still asleep and Lance can just make out his face in the dim glow of his phone. When Lance gently traces a finger across his cheek, Lotor makes a soft, sleepy sound of contentment and unconsciously shifts closer. 

 

Lance smiles and begins to type.

 

_ By the way Mama, I have to tell you something. _


End file.
